The Model Child
by Amidephrine
Summary: The north had to work twice as hard for even half the attention: he had to mind his manners, do his chores and listen to his elders. He never acted out around them, he never kicked up a fuss or threw a tantrum as Alfred often would. He was well-behaved and polite: a model child. It was just a shame he realized all too late that model children didn't need to be noticed.


"This is a bad idea..."

Canada's soft voice was lost within the chirps and rustles of the forest, so much so that even if his brother had been paying attention in the first place, he would've asked the North to repeat himself. But America marched ahead, adventure and discovery on the forefront of his mind, oblivious to the fact that Canada was even still behind him.

"America," called the North, hesitating for a moment as he watched a bird flit by in the branches to his left. "We should go back."

But the southern boy kept marching ahead, a stupid grin plastered on his face as he pushed forward – missing the flashes of wildlife around him. It was those same flashes of wildlife that distracted Canada, and with every distraction he fell further and further behind.

Canada drew his focus back to his brother – or rather, his brother's back – and bit his cheek nervously. He ignored the rustle of leaves behind him and jogged to catch up, grabbing America's sleeve as soon as he was in range and switching to their human names. It was a more intimate address.

"Alfred."

Finally, the leading boy paused and turned, following the angle of his arm to where a small hand clutched tightly to his sleeve. He studied that hand for a moment, then noticed it was attached to an arm, which was attached to a torso, belonging to his brother.

"Matt!" he said, blinking as if he'd only just noticed the other boy was there, "I thought you had run back to Artie!"

Canada's brow arched upwards in exasperation and he shook his head.

"No, but we should both go back," said the northernmost sibling, giving his brother's sleeve an encouraging tug. "We're getting pretty far from big brother's home. He told us not to wander out here."

"So what? We don't need him to baby us! We can take care of ourselves!" Alfred yanked his sleeve out of Matthew's grip, the latter looking hurt at his brother's curt withdrawal. The southern twin frowned at his sibling's uneasy expression, then sighed. "Right?" he pressed, looking for an agreement from his soft spoken counterpart. "You know we _both_ can take care of ourselves."

Matthew's violet eyes hit his shoes. Alfred turned to face his brother completely and clamped his hands on the other's shoulders, giving him a light shake. Matthew's reluctance to answer was generally a sign that Alfred was right.

"C'mon, bro. Let's show him we can look after ourselves! We won't be gone long, and it'll be like a great adventure!"

Alfred gave his counterpart his best smile, ducking his head to enter the Canadian's downcast line of sight. He squeezed the boy's shoulders and shook him lightly again.

"Please?"

Matthew seemed to blush as Alfred made it his mission to meet his brother's gaze. He looked off to the right, to where a pair of squirrels scrambled down the trunk of one tree and took off into the forest in a blur. He bit down on his lip, then nodded.

"Okay, maybe we can-"

"Alright!" Alfred didn't even wait for him to finish. He turned and kept marching. Matthew stood still, uncertain, for a few minutes. He couldn't quite explain his surprise when Alfred suddenly stopped, looked behind him and smiled. He backtracked to where the soft spoken brother still hesitated and took his hand. "C'mon, we'll stay together the entire time. I won't leave you behind."

Gently at first, Alfred led his cautious brother deeper into the woods. It didn't take long for him to forget his gentleness entirely and start pulling Canada along eagerly behind him. Matthew, to his credit, managed to keep up well enough on his own, but not without casting uneasy glances behind them every few steps.

But Alfred never broke his promise, and kept his brother's hand held firmly in his own. Anytime Canada dragged too far behind, he would look back and encourage the tentative other with friendly words and excited tugs.

"What are you hoping to find out here?" Matthew asked as they stepped over the large, knotted roots of an oak tree.

"I'unno! Something cool, maybe! Maybe we'll find a little brother of our own! Or a cool hide out we can turn into a secret fort! Or maybe we'll find some hidden, super secret place that no one else knows about. We could find anything!" Alfred pulled his brother up onto a large stone and the pair stood atop it, hand-in-hand as they looked out into the forest.

"That would be pretty neat," admitted the north with a shy smile.

"There you are, Canada!" Alfred turned and pinched his brother's cheek, pulling at his skin playfully. "I lost you for a while there and you were replaced by some boring little kid who wanted to run crying home to Britain! Of course it'd be 'pretty neat!' It would be freakin' awesome!"

Matthew swatted Alfred's hand away and gave him and irritated sidelong glance. In response, the southern brother stuck out his tongue and stepped off the rock with his friend and sibling in tow.

They walked together for a few minutes in a humbled silence, taking in the sights and sounds of the great forest with matching expressions of awe. Even Alfred, who normally was in too much of a hurry to take much notice of the wonders of nature, found himself slowing to match Matthew's pace, who basked in the green glow of the forest with a smile on his face.

"_Ah! Cerf!_" Matthew suddenly ducked, tugging harshly on his brother's arm in the process.

"What?"

"Deer!" another tug brought the southern boy to the ground. The pair crouched there, the northern boy pointing towards a clearing in the woods where a deer had trotted out into the open. The children held their breath, watching as the dear gracefully bent its head to chew at the ferns below. It perked at a distant noise, its ears flicking this way and that as it listened.

"Whoa!" hissed Alfred, ignoring how Matthew waved his arm and then pressed a finger to his lips. "That's so cool!"

The deer heard him, and swung his head 'round to where the boys crouched in the bush. It stared, examining their hiding place from where it stood in the sunlight. The twins stared right back, humbled under the creature's serene gaze.

Miraculously, they both managed to remain still and silent enough that when a noise startled the deer into fleeing, it wasn't produced by either of the children. A distant breaking branch chased the skittish animal back into the woods, and the pair let out a long breath in unison.

"See? I told you we'd find cool things!" Alfred was the first to spring back to his feet and drag his brother with him. Matthew's face was alive with excitement, even if he wasn't as quick to express it with words. "C'mon, let's see what else we can find!"

The northern boy's eyebrows raised curiously when Alfred let go of his hand. Instead of running off he stood waiting, a smile on his face, for his brother's reaction. Warmed by the unusual consideration, the quieter of the two returned the smile with one of his own and nodded.

"Okay!"

The two took off into the woods together. This time, one did not lead the other, but they ran side by side. They leaped over twigs and branches, roots and rocks, laughing joyously and calling out to one another as they ran. Even when one brother did pull ahead of the other, it was never for very long and not exclusively Alfred to do so. Even Matt had abandoned his insecurities and laughed loudly along with the south, bounding through the forest with just as much energy as his rambunctious twin.

"Dude," called the American, "we're gonna get into so much trouble when Artie figures out how far we went!"

In a rare moment of childish glee, Matt laughed aloud at the truth of his brother's words, instead of fretting over disappointing their British guardian. It felt good for even the soft-spoken nation to act out now and again. It was liberating.

The boys ran until their lungs burned and their legs ached, littered with little cuts from the twigs that had snapped against their flesh as they sprinted. They stopped at a large sycamore, hunched over and laughing as they fought to catch their breath. Matthew wiped the dirt from his legs while Alfred removed his glasses and wiped the sweat from his brow.

At some point they caught sight of one another, each twin sweaty and dusty and flushed, and their frazzled exteriors only made them laugh more until the ache in their bellies drove them to sit under the branches of the great tree to collected themselves.

"Why can't you always be like this, Matthew?" Alfred wiped the dirt from his nose and pushed his glasses back on. His chest still heaved from running, but his smile hadn't changed. Matthew, however, felt his expression sour at his brother's words. He had composed himself quite quickly, but rested in the shade just the same to ease the protests of his tired muscles.

"What do you mean, 'always like this?' I'm always me, aren't I?"

Alfred blew out his lips and rolled his eyes.

"Nuh-uh."

"How can I not be me?"

"Uh, no, that's not what I meant." Alfred turned his head, meeting the offended glare of his brother, unhindered by the lenses of his glasses – Matthew was cleaning them with the fabric of his vest. "I mean, you're always so...stuffy...whenever you're around Artie, or even Francy-pants. You only get like this when it's just you and me."

At this, Matthew's expression eased and he looked away.

"I wish you didn't have to be so prim and proper with them. You're more fun like this."

The northern boy shrugged, feeling almost guilty at hearing his brother's disappointment. He couldn't please everyone, it was impossible. He loved running and playing and laughing with Alfred, he enjoyed doing things kids were supposed to do, having fun and letting loose, but it wasn't always so easy for him.

Alfred had Britain's affection and attention from the very beginning. Alfred couldn't see it, but Matthew was wise for his years and to him it was plain as day. The north had to work twice as hard for even half the attention, he had to mind his manners, do his chores and listen to his elders. He never acted out around them, he never kicked up a fuss or threw a tantrum as Alfred did from time to time. He was well-behaved and polite, a model child.

But he had realized too late that model children tended to garner less attention than the troublemakers, because they did not need to be watched and reprimanded. Even were he to kick up a fuss or throw a tantrum, he would be forever compared to his brother:

"_What do you think you're doing, Canada? I'd expect this kind of behaviour from America, not you!"_

"_Please don't tell me you would be so petty as to act out for attention, Canada, I would have hoped you were better than that."_

"_Just because your brother gets away with having a sour temper does not mean you're allowed to behave the same!"_

France would often quietly encourage the boy to make trouble for Britain, to live a little and break a thing or two. But again, Canada was wise for his age. He had a feeling that France nudged him to act out simply so the man could strut by at the most convenient time with a "_I_ could always take my little _Mathieu_ back if he's too much trouble, _Angleterre_, ohohoho!"

So, Canada simply fell all too easily into the role of the 'good twin.' He was the well-behaved colony Britain wished all his charges would be like, but his model behaviour meant he was so easily forgotten - he didn't need to be fussed over.

But for all his wisdom and well-mannered tendencies, Matthew was still a child. When he was with his brother, he wasn't held to the standards he'd forced upon himself. He could have fun and laugh and get dirty and break the rules. He wouldn't be reprimanded, he wouldn't be compared to Alfred, he could be a kid and not ever be made to feel guilty about it.

"Hey." Alfred waved a hand in front of Matt's face, who blinked himself back to attention. "Welcome back to Earth. Gonna answer my question?"

"Oh..." Matthew flushed at his negligence. "I guess..." Canada tried to think of the easiest way to explain this strange complex to America, but the words all seemed too complicated, his explanations too confusing. "I guess I just feel silly if I act out around the adults..."

"But I do it all the time!"

Matthew gave a sheepish laugh, mindful that his answers didn't start a fight. He knew how to deal with Alfred, and as a result he knew how to steer the boy off this particular topic.

"Well, I guess I'm just not as brave as you are..."

"I guess that's right!"

Matthew chomped down on his tongue to still the bitter remark that rose up in his throat. He smiled instead, feeling the bile die down and leave him with a hard-to-explain sadness in his chest.

"But it's okay with you if I act this way, right?"

"Duh! I prefer it!"

The violet-eyed child smiled at last, and the expression was genuine.

"I'm glad."

* * *

After a brief break under the sycamore, the siblings were ready to venture again. Canada protested quietly at pushing any further away from their estate, but America's stubborn heroism won over in the end.

"_I'll keep us on track, and I'll protect us no matter what!"_

But now the pair travelled at a pace that had been greatly subdued. No longer did Alfred charge fearlessly into the thicket, and the boys didn't quite have the energy to sprint blindly ahead. They walked, hand-in-hand once more (because Alfred didn't want Matthew to get scared, you see, not because he was nervous himself) and advanced at a much more cautious pace.

The woods here were darker, the canopy above fuller and thicker than anywhere they'd been so far. The leaves of one tree tangled with the leaves of another, creating a thick green blanket that muted the sun's light and chilled the earth below.

Even Alfred was unusually hushed as he stepped over roots and rocks, keeping careful pace with his more delicate brother.

"Maybe..." even Canada's soft voice seemed too loud for this part of the woods "...Maybe we should turn back?"

Alfred stopped, looking to his brother and unaware that he was showing his uncertainty on his face for the slighter of the two to see clearly. Matt offered his twin a reassuring smile and Alfred capitulated.

"This part is pretty boring, yeah, and I'm getting hungry. Let's head back and get Artie to make us lunch."

Canada nodded in agreement, far too happy with his brother's decision to finally return home to remind him that they'd already had lunch, along with a mid-afternoon snack before leaving.

But as they turned, a fierce growl gave them both ample reason to pause. Alfred was the first to while to the left and face the creature that lumbered out of the thicket. The beast reared back on its hindlegs and gave a distinct roar.

"_Crisse, ours!" _hissed the frailer of the duo, forgetting his tongue in fear.

Alfred would have normally stared blankly at Matthew and demanded a translation, but he was paralysed by the sight of the monstrous bear lumbering into the clearing. It was no accident, either, the bear's beady little eyes were fixed on the children, its jaws snapping.

It took one look at those teeth and the nervous tug of his brother's hands at his arm for Alfred to rally his composure and force his inner hero out.

"I'll protect you, Mattie!"

The blue-eyed brother shoved the other behind him, puffing out his chest as the bear fell on all fours and stalked forward. Alfred answered with a step back, more out of instinct than of fear. The action pushed Matthew into retreat as well.

But the soft-spoken twin, ever more alert than his brother, had noticed something the american missed. If he intended to draw his sibling's attention to it, however, the moment passed. The bear charged and Matt was shoved away as Alfred answered the challenge.

Matt clattered to the floor, rolling in time to see the bear ram its skull into Alfred's stomach. Were he human, the boy would've broken something on impact, or at least been sent flying. Instead, the southerner stood his ground and gripped tightly to the fur on either side of the bear's head. He was carried upwards when the beast stood upright a second time, lifting his paws to peel the child off its face.

"Alfred, wait!"

Matthew scrambled to his feet as Alfred dropped off the creature of his own free will, delivering a punch that went more or less unnoticed into the bear's well padded stomach. Alfred paid his brother little mind, too distracted with trying to box a creature ten times his physical size and just as stubborn.

With a huff at being ignored and deciding to go about protecting his brother with his own brand of heroism, Matthew skirted around the wrestling duo. Had the bear the mind for it, it probably would've been dumbstruck at the strength of the human cub it had attacked, and perhaps in some small way it was – for it did not turn to attack the second child, who was steadily becoming a worse threat.

But Alfred managed to hold its attention, even after the bear's claws tore open the flesh of the American boy's arm and it began to drive him back with the fear of what more those claws could do.

"Hey!" Matthew called, his voice accompanied by a series of curious squeaks. Canada had gathered up a little black bundle of fur in his arms – one that kicked and squeaked and cried and oh wait that's a cub.

Alfred bristled at the sight of his smaller brother holding a bear cub to his chest.

As did the bear. The _mama_ bear.

She snarled and spun, lumbering towards the Canadian with renewed aggression. Alfred called out, but he needn't have bothered. The boy tossed aside the little cub and succeeded in distracting the bear with her cub's unexpected flight. He seized the creature's uncertainty and darted around it. For now, the she-bear let the boy go – for her cub mewled pathetically where it landed, safe and unharmed in a thick bush and she wanted to first be sure her child was okay before ripping the human asunder.

But Matthew was not waiting for her to figure out her little one was unharmed. He grabbed Alfred by the wrist and fled as if hell itself were nipping at his heels. Alfred, dumbfounded at his brother's ballsy move, could only stumble along behind the other, trying to keep up with the fleet-footed boy.

When the boys' adrenaline spike began to fade, they doubled over, hands on their knees as they heaved. Then Alfred laughs and laughs and laughs until he is gasping in pain from a cramp in his side and Matthew is flush and confused and a little shaky still from fear.

"What's so funny?!" his demand was in front of an aggressive drive and Alfred's good cheer renewed itself with another series of giggles. Unsure of how else to react, Matthew punched his brother.

* * *

When the two managed to settle, they began the trek back to the estate together – Alfred nursing the spot on his jaw which was sure to be a bruise later. His arm, however, was no longer bleeding.

"I'm sorry, bro," apologized Alfred with a mad grin, trailing after his brother who marched ahead. "It's just...you were so...not you!"

Matthew bit his tongue and decided not to try explaining how offensive that sounded. He kept pushing forward, his brows furrowed over violet eyes. Then, Alfred caught on to what was on the forefront of the colony's mind.

"Don't tell Artie."

Alfred had paused as he spoke, and as a result he fell behind the Canadian who did not slow and had to jog to catch up. His sibling's stubborn pace was hardly reassuring.

"Mattie, Matt, Matt, Matthew!"

The boy kept stubbornly marching forward, stopped only when his twin swung around in front of him and planted himself firmly in Canada's path.

"You can't tell him!"

"And whyever not?"

The expression on the boy's face was one of cold fury – one his brother knew very well. The adults knew little of his counterpart's frigid temper, but the American's headstrong behaviour meant he saw much of it.

(And perhaps, in hindsight, Arthur knew of it too – taking Canada from France had not sat well with the colony, and he made no effort to hide it in his first few weeks under British rule.)

"Because he'll kill me. Us. Both of us. We both went and he'll murder us both."

Alfred did his very best to stress that Canada could be punished as well, hoping his brother would ignore his sense of honesty in favour of not getting belted.

"He wouldn't kill you," Matthew says simply and the tone is dismissive. "Though he might try."

Alfred paled, moving to block his counterpart when Matt tried to step around him.

"Whoa, whoa, wait!" Alfred frantically blocked every step the other boy tried to take, irritation showing clearly on the latter's soft features. "Please, Matt. I don't want to get in trouble and besides you were there with me and we both agreed to keep going and-"

Alfred's mouth stopped working all at once as he took in the irritation and the anger and realized he was missing something.

"-and thank you."

Finally, the annoyance dissolved into confusion.

"Thank you?" echoed Matthew.

"Thank you!"

"...What for?"

"You distracted that bear! I mean, in the end I could've totally taken it, but it had sharp claws and they hurt and I probably wouldn't have thought to get out of there if you hadn't distracted it." While Matthew looked contemplative at the child's words, he didn't realize that Alfred was thinking just as hard on his own words.

It was always that way. America would get into trouble, often dragging Canada into it because of their closeness. Granted, when Alfred wanted to do something really stupid like hide all of Arthur's breakfast teas before he woke up in the morning, Matthew would politely decline. But for the important things, the bumps and scrapes, the things that were dangerous and exhilarating and had to be done all the same, Matt was always there – ready to bail him out of trouble or laugh along with him when they shared an accomplishment.

"Thank you, Matt," the southern child repeated earnestly. "I know I'm a bit headstrong-" he decided to ignore the way Matthew echoed the words 'a bit' with a dry chuckle and a raised eyebrow "-and sometimes that gets me into a lot of trouble, but you're always there when I really need you and even when I don't...you're there when Artie isn't. I'm sorry for dragging you into trouble as often as I do."

Alfred paused, his throat dry as he scrambled for the words that would save both their skins and impress his brother with his honesty.

"But for all the times I drag someone into trouble, I'm glad it's you. I know you'll have my back when it really counts. Thank you, and I'm sorry, but I don't regret that you're the one I bring with me when I go adventuring."

In hindsight, perhaps the end to that rant had not been as sentimental and heartwarming as Alfred would've liked. But Matthew's expression eased and at least it was enough. When the northern colony smiled, the southern was over the moon.

"O-okay. I suppose England doesn't have to know."

Alfred's grin stretched ear to ear.

"There's the brother I know and love!"

He pulled the smaller boy into a crushing hug and he put up with it for only a few seconds before squirming and trying to push the other away.

When they separated and followed up the embrace with a pact of secrecy, Alfred once again went back to happily marching back to their estate – once again leading the way because he was the leader and that's what leaders do.

Canada quietly fell in step behind him, a small smile having stuck to his face since their pact. He didn't think America noticed all the things he did (let's be honest, he didn't think _anyone_ noticed all the things he did) but he was glad for it – glad to hear that at least to his brother he wasn't as unnoticeable.

Maybe being the model child was a taxing burden for the little boy to carry, and he would carry it well into adulthood and beyond – of that he was sure. But the moments where he shoved off the responsibility and followed his reckless brother out to adventure made it worth all the times he was forgotten or dismissed or ignored, because at least the Southern boy knew the truth:

Matthew was not just a model child; that was not his only defining grace. He was a brother and a fighter and the friend you wanted around when the proverbial shit hit the fan. He was strong when it mattered and no less proud than his counterpart, even if he was a little quieter about it.

No, he was so much more than a model child, and one day Canada would prove it.

Not just to his brother.

But to the world.

* * *

**Hallo!**

**I swear, eventually I'll start writing heavier stuff than family fluff (I'm capable, I swear!) but for now family fluff is just a good way to warm up the writing muscles -manly flex-**

**Plus Canada is love.**

**Still figuring a lot of these characters out, so I'd appreciate any and all feedback you may have - good or otherwise. I'll probably shift my focus to Britain and Canada next, and then perhaps some Francy goodness, or the Germans. Yaaaay Germans!**

**Please take some time to leave a review - I look forward to talking to you!**

**Thank you for reading, and I will see you again soon.**

**Ta~**

**Ami**


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